


What Comes of Sleeping On Percy Blakeney's Study Floor

by FanficCornerWriter19



Series: His Reason For Pride [5]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, The Scarlet Pimpernel - All Media Types
Genre: Aka an anime called B---- B------, Other, Percy is only a Bit Evil, Reference to something Otakus know, darcy has a secret, not telling - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficCornerWriter19/pseuds/FanficCornerWriter19
Summary: Darcy expected a restful night in Percy's Dover cottage - after all, he's exhausted after the rescue of the Delacroix family, and he wants to wind down. However, while waiting for Percy to show him to his room, Darcy falls asleep on Percy's study floor.And wakes up to a much more embarrassing situation than he ever asked for.Or: How Percy acquires Elizabeth Bennet's handkerchief, and gives it back to the thief - eventually.





	What Comes of Sleeping On Percy Blakeney's Study Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't kill me. I honestly laughed myself to death thinking about this, but some people might have a different sense of humor.

God, I am so tired.

It is February 1792 and we have just rescued another aristocratic family from the guillotine – and I am so doggedly exhausted I feel that I shall collapse into slumber should I come into contact with anything even remotely comfortable. So tired…

I stumble into my cabin on the _Day Dream_ , and fall into bed, but at the moment my mind is whirling with past events; Guillaume Delacroix and his family’s near shave with death was especially close. It took the combined efforts of Percy and me to get them out of their quandary. My mind and body are thoroughly fizzled out, and my sword and pen arm is throbbing with cramps. I can scarcely move it anymore.

I toss and turn for hours, and when Percy offers us the hospitality of his small house in Dover to those of us whose homes are farther, I accept with a grateful sigh as I stumble into his carriage without words.

He laughs as he follows me. “Odd’s life, but that was a close shave, was not it, Darcy?”

I ‘hm’ in agreement. His electric blue eyes slide half-shut as he regards me through his new quizzing-glass. “A bit sore in the shoulder, are you not, man? Ah well, but you did take a begad knockout blow to that arm – that’s expected. Hey, I say, are you alright?”

“Mm,” I murmur. “Only tired, Percy – so very tired.” My eyes blink, then close in the bliss that comes with finally succumbing to exhaustion – I moan softly with the pleasure of being able to, at last, sleep. I lie down on the carriage seat in the most comfortable position for me, only just hearing Percy’s laugh before I slide into sleep.

However, I am woken again, far too soon for my liking, and I almost growl at Percy until I realize who he is, and I hop down obediently. I trail him, I know not where, but when I see that the room he enters has no beds whatsoever, I ask, “What should I do?”

He looks at me as though just realizing that I have followed him. “If you can wait, I shall show you to your room – I won’t be long, my dear chap. La! How tired you look! Odd’s life, but I shall have to hurry.”

I go in. “Apologies,” he says briskly, “but there is only one chair.” I’ve noticed, and so I sit, cross-legged, in a corner by the fire – so warm… so warm to my freezing, weary body, even with the overcoat still on…

He sits at his chair and starts running through the papers on his desk as I watch him in that trance where all those weary to the core slip when they wish for nothing but permission to sleep. I have not yet had that permission from Percy. I need that – I am in his home, I am his follower.

I sit there, cross-legged, my greatcoat shed, waiting for him to finish. I wait. I wait. I wait…

* * *

“La! Darcy, if you wanted to sleep on my floor you could have said so, eh?”

I blink. My neck is far too warm – and it is stiff – and my arm is cramped harder than ever. It tingles terribly. I blink again, and realize where I am.

I am in Percy’s Dover study, lying on the floor!

I start into a sitting position, and I am struck by how sore I am all over! My neck has a crick in it, and my arm and shoulder are stiff – my hand especially – my waist appears to have been frozen, and above all my ears are ringing strangely.

I blink a few more times, and my vision clears and zeroes in on the image before me: a grinning Percy Blakeney, his electric blue eyes shining with amusement and mischief and his light golden-white eyebrow raised in amused question. I rub my eyes to rid them of sleep, muttering, “I must have fallen asleep…”

He laughs merrily. “Must have! Odd’s life, my dear fellow, you _did_ – and you looked a very amusing little thing, curled up on the floor like a little beggar-boy snuck in to enjoy a warm fire!”

“I was tired, Percy!” I defend myself hotly.

“So was I, I daresay,” he remarks, still grinning, “and yet I waited at least until I had finished all the demmed paperwork to get a bit of shut-eye.” He is smiling, smirking. “I was in fact able to nick this!”

He holds up a handkerchief I know to be smaller than mine – and I pale in fear, my eyes widening. It is that handkerchief of Elizabeth’s that I managed to steal at Netherfield! God knows that I am trying to shake myself of the minx – I have no idea what I was even thinking when I stole that – but for Percy of all people to find it!

I flush in embarrassment. “Give me that!” I grab for it, but he holds it just out of reach, pretending to toy with it.

“The initials E. V. B. – oh goodness, who could this be? Odd’s fish, Darcy, have you taken a mistress? How very scandalous!” He laughs and dangles the accursed thing just above my clutching fingers, anticipating my every grab.

My cheeks burn as I reach for it again, jumping to my feet. “Give that back, Percy Algernon Alois Blakeney!”

He giggles merrily and steps just out of my reach – by virtue of his two inches on me he can hold it up where I cannot reach it, and I growl as I paw at his chest just to get at the damned thing. I grab a hold on his coat, and I haul myself up – but no! I am just an inch too short.

I almost laugh at the incredibility of my statement. I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, have only been described as ‘ _short_ ’ when I was a shrimp of a lad of twelve, before I suddenly shot up like a colt. Since then no one has ever called me ‘short’, and yet here I am describing myself as such when I am reaching for Elizabeth’s handkerchief from a man two inches taller than I!

But to the task at hand! Percy is still holding it just out of reach, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicker with amusement and he weaves just out of range of my long arms.

Finally he laughs and bolts out of the study as I dash after him. His retreating back mocks me as he runs towards the safety of his own chambers, still waving the stupid handkerchief – on purpose, I bet. I make a flying tackle and he slams into the carpeted floor with my arms locked around his neck threateningly.

The loud ‘thud’ of Percy’s landing, and the equally loud ‘oof!’ that escaped him when he landed on his chest, are sufficient reminder to me that there are other people in the house.

HE IS STILL CLUTCHING ELIZABETH’S HANDKERCHEIF!

I huff in frustration and try to pry it out of his fist while his laughter puffs out of his lips as he watches me yank at the confounded cloth. I growl at him and smack him on the head a few times to loosen his grip – and yet, like the well-drilled fighter that he is, he refuses to! I continue my efforts, until a confused and astonished voice breaks in on my haze of annoyance:

“What exactly _are_ you two doing?!”

I raise my eyes to that of one Antony Dewhurst. “What does it look like?” I grumble, glaring.

“You don’t want to know my answer to that question, Darcy,” Tony mumbles.

“ _Why?_ ”

Percy laughs. It hits me that I am literally sitting astride him as though he were a horse – on that part between his shoulders and the small of his back that would grant me best access to his damned fist – with both hands clamped down on his fist. My cheeks burn even hotter than when I realized he had stolen Elizabeth's handkerchief. “ _Shit_.”

“Language, m’dear fellow,” Percy remarks cheekily, as he rolls out from under me and springs to his feet. “Worry not, Tony, it is only that I stole a bit of a secret of his that he wishes to keep.” He winks at me.

“PERCY!”


End file.
